The Five Stages of Healing
by ChimericalSerenity
Summary: The aftermath of rape is a messy thing indeed. MidoTaka.
1. Pain

Hiya! So this is a complete multichapter fic, five chapters long. I'm probably going to post a chapter per week, unless I'm distracted by RL stuff. Hopefully I'm going to be fine and be able to match the deadline for once. Without further ado, here's the first chapter. Please review before you head out!

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_The only thing Takao Kazunari felt in those fifteen minutes he was pushed down and raped was pain. He remembered the bruising force of fingers digging into his hipbones, the way the messy, hot thrusts into him had shook him to his very core, and how wetness forced its way into him, causing another wave of fresh pain and an accompanied shudder of unsuppressed disgust to rack his body._

_Takao had put up a fair fight too, trying to aim for the right spots, the knee, the groin, the stomach; oh God, just anything to slow the impostor down, but the guy knew what he was doing. Coming behind him like that; it was an awkward twist of an angle that minimized Takao's strength greatly. The man gave a small chuckle, before speaking softly into Takao's ear with a slight Kansai drawl, 'You like that, don't you, _bitch_?'_

_Takao bristled in hostility and indignation in being called a bitch, before doubling his efforts, struggling futilely in the impostor's grip, 'Shit! Hel-Mphh!'_

_A calloused hand slammed over his face, and Takao groaned, feeling his own teeth cut into his gums at the collision. His left elbow connected with something soft, presumably the other's stomach, and the latter's fingers slackened. This was the split second that Takao hoped for. He immediately, wasting no time, stumbled forwards, a step…another step…before slipping on a patch of ice._

_The attacker, who had been surveying the other's motions wearily, waiting for Takao to lower his guard, immediately pounced on him, slamming him into the brick wall of the alleyway. The person spoke again, amusement worn short and voice now a low growl, 'Bastard! The fuck do you think you're trying to do?'_

_Takao kept silent, feeling terror seep into his limbs and cause them to grow weak and almost give way under his weight_. _This was happening. He was helpless_. He was going to be raped._ And then Takao stopped thinking, because the man forced himself into him, emitting short laboured breaths of pleasure and praised him for his tightness, exclaiming just how good he was. The pain was so sharp, so concentrated that Takao didn't know if he should stay as still as possible or triple his efforts of moving away from the man._

_There was a pause of movement and the stranger's chest pressed up to Takao's back. Inside of him, Takao felt a slow drag of in an out, doubling the pain, before the man started thrusting in earnest. Every movement that Takao made doubled the pain and sent it ricocheting up Takao's spine and he felt fear that paled in comparison to anything he ever felt. He bit and scratched and pushed and struggled, but the pain was so _Painful_ that Takao stopped struggling. Takao lay there, limp. He wished he were dead._

_After what seemed like an agonizingly long time, the man shuddered and stopped, emitting a strangled moan. By this point, Takao was too immersed in pain, and didn't even bother to stop the man from tugging up his pants messily and shoving him into white coldness. That was the last thing Takao saw, before his vision blurred and his world turned black._

After what felt like an eternity, Takao's eyes focused and he was met with a wash of sickly white. His nose was stung by the stench of vomit and bleach, and he proceeded to wrinkle it, studying the barren room he was in. The pastel coloured bedspread under him wasn't any better, and Takao felt sick. He had a slight urge to vomit, but his stomach seemed to have no sustenance in it, allowing him to only dry heave. _Why was he in the hospital?_ His mind didn't seem to work and answers didn't come. Furrowing his brows at this prospect, Takao ignored the sludge in his mind and allowed himself to assess his physical injury. Seeing none, his hand picked up the sleek, black controller lying inconspicuously on the bed and raised himself up. The controller was easy to understand, and Takao quickly realized that right next to the controls, there was an attendant button. The nurse came in shortly after Takao pressed it, donning a bored expression, but as soon as her eyes skimmed the clipboard hanging at the edge of his bed, her eyes widened and she immediately rushed out of the room.

Soon after, a doctor came in to his room. Takao surveyed the doctor's expression, but of course, after years of medical training, the doctor obviously learnt that he shouldn't give anything away.

'O-oisha-san, why am I in hospital?' Takao directed in a raspy voice to the white coated man, before realizing his throat was completely parched. Takao soon found that there was a cup of lukewarm water on the wooden table next to his bed, and he sipped at it, grateful for its presence.

The doctor and nurse shared a dark look, causing Takao insides to feel uneasy and his brain to tug, as if a memory was threatening to surface, 'Are you sure you don't remember anything?'

'I don-' Takao trailed off, as a tingling feeling of pain travelled up his spine, sharper and sharper, before flaring off at his hipbones, feeling exactly like indentations of calloused fingers. Shivering, everything came back in a horrifyingly detailed way, and Takao found himself wishing that he had not remembered anything. 'I-I' Takao whimpered slightly. _Pathetic._ A voice sounded in his head.

Immediately, the doctor was at his side, steadying Takao's hands so that his trembling wouldn't cause water to spill from the cup he was holding. Brows furrowed in worry, he questioned, 'Are you okay?'

'I-no. I mean, I guess. I remember everything,' Takao said before adding, 'I remember him grabbing me on the hips with his fingers.'

The doctor nodded, if that had made perfect sense in that context, 'What else?'

'Afterwards I think I was pushed into the snow,' Takao intoned.

'I see. A couple found you lying in the snow. You had a mild case of hypothermia. You were out cold for three days,' The doctor stated, 'You were lucky. If they hadn't've found you, you would've died.'

'Died…' Takao felt strangely calm, as if still sunken in a stupor.

The doctor gave him a pathetic, attempting-to-be-sympathetic smile, before he was interrupted by the sharp _ping_ from his phone! Glancing briefly at the glowing screen and scanning the words across it, he looked up at Takao, 'your parents are here. There has to be a week-long rest period, but your family wants you to go home with them. Your sister misses you a lot, so I've heard. Would you rather go home? Or would you rather stay here?'

Takao snorted, 'What do they usually say? No offense, doctor, but I don't think anyone would want to stay here in such a depressing place!'

The doctor nodded in agreement with a light smile, but his eyes contained barely-hidden sadness, 'Come back if you ever need any help, alright? We'll be here.'

'I'm fine, doctor; trust me, I won't,' Takao directed another polite smile at the doctor, before allowing himself to trudge out of the room. As soon as he stepped out of the room, he was immediately crowded by his family members, who exclaimed his name and asked about his well-being repeatedly. Takao brushed them off with a smile that didn't reach his eyes and as soon as they turned their backs, comforted by Takao's assurance, he immediately dropped his smile. _He was so tired…_

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Review or like if you enjoyed! :)


	2. Loathing

The second chapter! I know that it's been a while; I'm sorry for the delay. I'm currently suffering through finals, so I'm not on point these few weeks. I swear after June I will definitely post more! ^-^'

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The next week, Takao frequently questioned his decision to come home. Takao was a popular topic for his parents and his sister allowed her eyes to stray to him a lot more than normal. It was as if they didn't think that Takao could hear their mumbles or feel their eyes boring into his back. It was oppressing. Takao wanted to scream. He grinned at that. He kind of wanted to know what his parent's reaction would be. But after that, it would mean more care and more crying and more weariness. Takao refrained.

The twinge in his spine went away after that week, and Takao thought he'd find closure, but that deep pang of foreign emotion deep in his gut never went away. He just wanted to lock himself in his room and never see the light of day again. That worked for an hour until his sister poked her head through the door and he through a picture frame at her. He heard her sobs through the door for the remainder of the night. _Annoying._

The next day, Takao made himself a slice of toast and set out early, ignoring his internal monologue which was screaming for him to run back to safety. Takao focused on breathing, ignoring how the sun made him think of the man's seed in him, gooey, prickly, unwelcome, and how the folds of his shirt brushed against his nipples like the man's stubby fingers had, and how the heavy weight of his schoolbag felt like the man was leaning on him all over again, breathing over his shoulder in heavy pants and oh god oh _god_

Takao dry heaved a little at that but at the same time stuttered a laugh. He was a masochist, wasn't he?

~MidoTaka~

As soon as Takao stepped into the door, heads turned, and Takao, though profusely ignoring it, sensed teal eyes studying him with a critical air, 'Takao, where were you? What happened?'

'I was at home,' Takao said, feeling a strange sense of calm coat him.

Midorima's eyebrows contracted, drawing into a line, concern colouring his face, 'Baka, that much is obvious.'

'Then why did you ask?' Takao snapped, tone tight with anger that surprised even himself. The emotion in his voice was so raw and rough that Midorima didn't seek to provoke him any further.

Midorima could see the anger radiating off Takao in waves, and instead of instigating the subject further, chose to lean back in his seat. Though he dropped the subject, Takao could still feel curious, almost weary eyes boring into his back throughout the day.

_Ring!_ The bell jolted Takao out of his wayward thoughts. _Finally. The day ended_. Today was full of plastic smiles and 'are you okays'; he had lost his temper more than once. By the end of the day, most people knew that there was something wrong. Takao was then avoided, glances and murmurs following him wherever he went. The only person who stayed by his side was Midorima, a silent presence that Takao much needed, as Takao, it was becoming a habit of late, had wanted to cry.

The teacher had dismissed them, and Takao, desperate to get away from everyone, had carelessly swept all his belongings into his bag, allowing them to pool messily, papers crumpled and books bent, before striding away from the classroom, away from Midorima, away from _life_ in general.

Takao was almost to the door, one step…another…one more step then he would be out of the classroom. He attempted another step but a cool hand grasped his wrist, gently but firmly, pulling him to a halt.

Takao jerked his hand back as if Midorima was on fire, 'What?'

Midorima's eyebrows drew together in frustration, 'What do you mean what? Why are you acting like this?'

'It's none of your goddamn business, Midorima!' Takao snarled, tears gathering unknowingly at the corners of his eyes; out of frustration or sadness, Takao didn't know.

'I'm your friend!' Midorima shouted back, before sobering as he regarded Takao's obviously disarrayed state.

Takao's resolve wavered at the other's tone and he averted his eyes from Midorima, dropping the defiant look he had pasted onto his face. Another agonizing second passed, 'I-I can't talk about it. Please, don't make me.'

Midorima's determined look melted fractionally, but his voice was firm, 'What happened?'

Takao only shook his head before becoming unresponsive once more. Standing there in front of Midorima's critical gaze, Takao could only avert his head, reigning in his urge to cry. Midorima's brow furrowed minutely. Something must've happened. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. By the looks of Takao, he wasn't doing too well.

'Ne, Takao,' Midorima said, voice unnaturally soft, contrasting against the harsh silence of the room and the minute shuddering of Takao's shoulders, 'you don't have to tell me, but I want you to know that if there's anything I can do, just anything, then-'

Takao couldn't stop himself then and he threw himself at Midorima. The latter's arms stiffened in surprise, but reflexively came to rest around the shorter boy's shoulders, pulling him into a tighter embrace, rubbing the other's back comfortingly. Biting his lip, Takao let himself sob freely into his friend's shirt. The hitching of his shoulders and the wetness that was spreading across Midorima's school shirt was unmentioned, and they both stayed in the position.

At that moment, Takao felt lonely. He missed the moments where he would cling to Midorima and laugh and call him names. Takao knew that however much he wanted it to be normal again, he wouldn't be able to pull that off. Because of _that_, he was changed. Forever. However, Takao wouldn't let this moment go. He would rather feel sad then feel the _pain_ that coursed through him every second excluding these few rare ones when a memory brought him back to before. With Midorima, everything felt _normal_. He felt safe, he felt strangely renewed, in a sense. Most importantly, in that second, Takao was able to forget.

Maybe with Midorima, Takao could learn to be normal again. At least, Takao hoped so.

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Review please! :)


	3. Facade

I'm sorry that I didn't post for so long! I know some people, if only just a few, are waiting for the next chapter. Sorry about that. Exams are over, so hopefully I can actually post on time! ^-^'

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It had been a week ago since Takao came back as Not-Takao. Midorima didn't know what to feel about it. First, he was indignant at Takao's behaviour, disbelieving. The stoic person in front of him obviously couldn't be Takao. How could it be? Takao was full of life, cheerful and annoying. The person that took his place was devoid of emotion, eyes flashing with self-depreciation and self-loathing, as if he were uncomfortable in his own skin.

Midorima shook his head, looking askance at the figure behind him discreetly in the subtle reflection of the window pane, for as he was sitting directly behind his subject, he could only see the latter's unruly hair. From the mirror, Midorima could see that Takao's eyes and cheeks looked sunken, as if nightmares and bad thoughts had decayed the tender flesh around it like infesting worms. He narrowed his eyes at the sight, heart tight with an unidentifiable pull of emotion before he lowered his head his eyes looking at his notes but not seeing.

'Midorima-kun. Midorima-kun!' A calloused hand slapped down on the table, startling him out of his suspicions, 'Answer the question on the board!'

Midorima looked upwards at the board. Volume of revolution. That was easy. He reviewed that chapter ages ago. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see the pitying glances he was getting, and he felt a stab of unreasonable anger; there was nothing pitiful about him, and especially not Takao. Takao was still Takao and he was still Midorima. Takao was just troubled by something, that was all.

'Ah, Sensei, gomen,' Bowing respectfully, he slowly, he got up to the board and wrote down his working with his neat handwriting he had perfected in his Teiko years. He turned to the teacher for approval, nodding in satisfaction when she gave him a begrudging nod, before walking back to his seat, allowing him to now openly study Takao.

Takao looked worse than Midorima thought he would. His eyes were downcast and seemed melancholic and serene, as if he had accepted the fact he would be like this for the rest of his life. He felt Midorima's gaze on him, and he looked up, his eyes blanching at the fact someone was studying him so intently, and lowered his eyelashes modestly. The past Takao would never have done that. He would have made a joke, saying how Midorima was secretly interested in him and thought he was the handsomest person in the world. With Takao's charisma and good looks, Midorima was more than incline to agree, not that he would've explicitly done that. Not on his life.

It seemed eons before the bell rung, and Midorima suffocated in the remaining time of wait. As soon as the bell rung, he had taken his stuff and set them on Takao's desk, stopping him from escaping his questioning stares. As soon as a large bulk of people left, Midorima opened his mouth to question Takao about what the hell was happening, but Takao's eyes met his, and he was more than inclined to shut up. Swiftly changing his mind-set, he asked Takao the first thing on his mind, 'You coming to practice?'

Takao seemed surprised, but his eyes shuttered and he turned away from Midorima, 'I can't. I have stuff to do.'

Midorima snorted; Takao didn't even bother to come up with an excuse, 'It's a long time since we've played together.'

Takao didn't reply to this, opting to nod his head at Midorima's word, 'Mm.'

Midorima fidgeted for a while shifting from foot to foot ever so slightly, before pushing up his glasses and pulling out a chair from the desk beside Takao's sitting in the walkway, 'Ne, you okay?'

Takao seemed to want to crumple, but in the end, he just let out a broken sounding, 'I'm fine,' that Midorima was not too inclined to believe.

Takao didn't move from his seat, so neither did Midorima. He opted to take out a book, placing it in front of Takao, 'Ne, if you don't want to leave then let's study.'

The surprise on Takao's face was more than welcomed; Midorima already longed for another dynamic expression on the point guard's face, 'You'd miss practice to tutor me? I thought you said it was annoying.'

Unwillingly, Midorima found himself blushing, but quickly schooled his expression into a haughty one, 'Yes. It is. But if you don't get enough credit and need to stay afterschool for extra classes then who's going to play basketball with me?'

Takao allowed himself a small, weak smile that was so unlike his _other_ smiles but a smile that Midorima ached for all the same, 'Hm. Keep telling yourself that.'

Their study session went relatively well, save from a few awkward silences, where Takao seemed to space out. A clearing his throat would startle the black-haired boy, sending him into an embarrassed flurry of motion again.

They ended their study session when the bell signalling the end of after-school activities sounded, before beginning their slow trek back to their rickshaw, allowing the silence and the comfort of the other to sooth the widening gap between them.

Pushing his glasses up, Midorima realized it was time for them to part. Nodding to Takao, he turned to walk down his street to his house, but realized that Takao was still stationary, muscles tense, as he was dreading the walk alone.

'You okay?' Midorima stopped. Takao didn't respond, 'Oi!'

Starting, Takao offered Midorima a careless wave, 'I'm fine. See you.'

Takao then promptly turned away from Midorima and walked down the path, seemingly carefree, figure shrinking by the second, before finally disappearing as he rounded the bend. Midorima wanted to get back to his own business then, but something in him flat-out refused to do so. It was a foreign feeling, and Midorima felt slightly insulted at its sudden appearance. However, he did not object when it led him down the street where Takao had headed.

Midorima's footfalls were silent against the concrete. Breathing strangely loud in the silence of the air, he felt strangely panicked. He should have caught up with Takao by now; there was no other path for him to take. _Unless Takao had started running after he turned the bend. He must've._ Curiosity dominating over his cautiousness, he picked up his pace, sprinting forwards in a burst of worry-fed adrenaline.

Midorima didn't find Takao along the path, but as soon as he arrived at the Takao residence, he saw Takao's shoes haphazardly littered over the mat. Scoffing, Midorima tidied the other's shoes, lining it up and placing it in the centre of the mat before turning to leave.

_It _was_ his business, _Midorima thought, against his better judgement. If he waited for Takao to tell him about it, that time would probably be never. Midorima didn't know if Takao knew how to deal with whatever problem he had on his own. The pressure of it was obviously way too much for Takao to handle.

Midorima grimaced. He didn't know anything substantial yet, but one thing he knew for sure was that what he would find certainly wouldn't be pretty.

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Leave me a review or a favourite if you liked it! :)


	4. Combustion

Hi! I know it's been forever, but here you go! The next chapter to TFSOH! In all honesty, I'm not too satisfied with this chapter, but I don't know how to set it right. If you guys have any opinions as to what I could do with this chapter, I'd be more than happy to oblige.

WARNING: MATURE THEMES THIS CHAPTER

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The day his resolve strengthened somehow also strengthened Takao's secrecy. Days bled into months, and though Midorima could not for the life of him figure out what was wrong with Takao, the disconcerting feel of Takao's change of personality was a constant press in Midorima's mind. The rickshaw was often now left at school. Midorima always waited at the intersection of the two paths for Takao to emerge, but he was always left disappointed. Takao always found a way to avoid him.

Hefting his bag up onto his shoulder, Midorima sighed, looking at his watch. He really needed to leave or else he would be late. Turning to face the main road after looking down Takao's lane regrettably, Midorima set off, covering the distance in long strides. He set down his bag with a thump, a little out of breath, before sitting down in his seat. As usual, Takao was not there, but Midorima, as always, placed Takao's lucky item into the small cubbyhole below his desk.

Takao, as always, didn't show. Midorima mused a little sourly at the change within Takao. He had said that he would trust him, did he not? He was probably on the roof again. Raising his hand, he requested to go to the toilet before exiting the room and walking the short distance to the roof.

Emerging from the door, Midorima scanned the area, finding a figure leaning on the railing, looking down onto the school's open ground. Midorima walked up to him before nudging him slightly when the other offered no response, 'Takao.'

'It'd be a pretty weird feeling if I were to jump,' Takao said in response.

Midorima forced himself to roll his eyes, 'Yeah, because you'd die.' His voice choked a little unhappily on the last word like it was evil. It probably was to him at this point.

'It's not like I'd actually do it,' Takao whispered; he didn't sound so sure of it himself.

'Sit,' Midorima's voice was sharper than he intended.

'Afraid I might jump?' Takao quirked an eyebrow up at the other's tense posture.

'Yes,' Midorima ground out before turning around and leaning against the railing, gripping at one of the bars to prevent himself from doing anything hasty.

Silence. Takao didn't move an inch from where he stood.

Takao flung himself over the railing, sitting back to back with Midorima. Midorima froze, breath caught deep in his throat. Takao's breaths were surprisingly calm. It was as if their positions were reversed. _How could Takao not feel scared about what he's about to do? Doesn't he want to live?_ Midorima thought, heart pounding in his chest.

'Takao…' Midorima's voice trailed off, waiting for the other to respond, hoping, just hoping that…

'S-Shin-chan, I don't want to die.' Takao murmured, tears leaking from his eyes in a constant stream.

'I don't want you to die either,' Midorima pleaded him, his voice rising in pitch but not in volume. Something about this whole affair seemed secret.

'Then why do I feel like this? How is this better than being dead? I don't want this!' Takao shouted, voice immensely angry. Midorima wondered where all his anger had come from.

Takao stood, new determination in his eyes. Leaning forwards, a single hand gripping the bar, Takao felt momentarily breathless and dizzy from the vertigo, but his heart calmed eventually, and so did his pulse. He stayed in such a position, unmoving, contemplating how he would look on the court if he let go and fell.

'Oi, Takao!' Midorima admonished shakily, 'please, come back here and we can talk.'

'No.' Takao replied, hand shaking tremendously on the bar. It was a miracle that he didn't let go out of sheer tiredness, but the muscles he had developed from pulling Midorima's cart every day and when playing basketball as well as the adrenaline pumping through his system caused him to refrain from doing so.

'What the hell do you mean no?' Midorima said, sounding strangely offended.

'Do you think you can control me?' Takao demanded, 'I'm my own person! If I want to die then I die! Who the hell cares what you think! You're nothing! Who even wants you? Just leave okay? I didn't ask for your help!'

Emotion welled in him, and for the first time since he was twelve, Midorima raised his voice outside the basketball court, 'fuck you!'

Takao seemed to blanch at his words, before upping the venom and spitting, 'Yeah? Fuck you too. You don't know what I've been though.'

'How can I help you if you turn around and run away every single time I try to approach? You don't have to do this alone. How can you be so selfish and die? Have you thought of your parents? Your sister? Can you imagine them crying at your funeral? Have you imagined what would happen to me?' Unwillingly, Midorima felt tears building at the corners of his eyes and dipped his head down, hoping that the shadows cast over his face stopped the point guard from noticing.

Takao quietened, still looking at Midorima with an inscrutable expression. Midorima closed his eyes. The sense of failure was so strong that Midorima could taste the metallic, rusty taste of it. Takao was going to jump.

But miraculously, his face felt cool, a shadow blocking his face from the sun. Takao stood before him, bottom lip wobbling like a child, and Midorima swept him into his arms. Midorima stood there, biting his lips to keep the sobs that threatened to escape at bay. Midorima knew, however, that the tears running down his face were inevitable, so he let them run and fall onto Takao's shirt. He can feel the other's tears wetting his own shoulder too.

'Don't do that ever again, okay?' Midorima snarled before burying his face into Takao's shoulder again and mumbling, 'you scared me so much.'

Takao sobbed before nodding feverently, 'never again. Never.'

And it didn't feel like thing were okay in the least, and Midorima didn't know what the hell was bothering Takao, but it didn't matter, because now that Takao was in his arms again, he swore that nothing would ever _ever_ be able to harm Takao again.

Midorima felt horrible that he didn't keep his promise the last time, but he swore to keep this one, because Takao was real and safe, trembling in his arms.

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Thank you so much for reading! Please leave a review regardless if you enjoyed it or not! If there's anythign I could do to improve, I'd love some constructive criticism!


	5. Acceptance

Hi! This sums up the end of this journey! I know that this fic wasn't close to perfect, but this was a plot bunny that just needed to be written. Thank you to all you guys who reviewed, favorited and followed my story and for the majority of my silent audience! I really had a great time, and I truly hope that you guys are satisfied with the ending!

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Things weren't okay. They really weren't okay. Midorima was all too surprised that in all his snooping, he never found out. The symptoms were obvious; even a little internet surfing would have busted the case. When Takao had told him, Midorima didn't feel shocked; maybe a subconscious part of him knew what was wrong, but he never could admit to himself that something like that would even happen to the happy-go-lucky Takao.

The idea of an assailant, holding Takao down, physically and mentally damaging him was sickening, and Midorima's throat felt dry at the thought. However, a part of him was glad that he now knew. The curiosity and the fact that he wasn't even able to help his friend had clawed at his insides.

After a long and tearful catching up between the two of them in someplace, thankfully, semi-private, the conversation had turned to Takao's recovery. Takao had, after a long bout of heeding and persuasion from Midorima, had reluctantly agreed that he would go to get help from professionals. The conversations would probably, most likely, not be about anything about the recently traumatic events-Takao had refused to tell him the details, he sure as hell wouldn't open up to a bunch of strangers-the talks were therapeutic just because they were _talks._ A sense of rhythm had built up, and the conversation pushed the slowly setting depression and apathy that had crept into Takao's mind to a side.

It had been a week since the big reunion, and Takao, though still hesitant to talk the other members of the class, started to talk to Midorima more. His words, though not the mindless chatter before, would ask about assignments, about Midorima, forcing Midorima to talk and causing the green-head himself to realise unspoken truths about himself. _This didn't only do Takao good, _Midorima mused, _but his change in nature allowed Midorima to explore a new side of himself as well._

Not only did Midorima find a new side of himself but so did Takao, as through his trauma, he had gained a sort of one-minded, quiet diligence that did well for his grades. Midorima knew that it was likely because he needed something to focus upon, and work, boring, black and white, was something calming and easy for the hawk-eye to focus on.

A sort of tentative fondness budded between them, and the two soon fell back into their usual routine. It wasn't forced, but there was a sort of sober air about it; a sort of 'all this shit is out in the open and I don't know how to deal with it' feel about their relationship. It startled Midorima, to know that something so casual and open between them was missing. It was usually Midorima who despised the closeness and the suffocating familiarity of their relationship, but once the distance between them was apparent, Midorima found himself sorely missing it.

Takao never did pick-up basketball again. It wasn't that he was bad at it or anything, the passion he once had had drained out of him like water from a broken bucket. Midorima had missed their physical understanding, feeling like a lost gear in a two part machine. Midorima continued playing, but it always felt like something was missing. Partnered with Takao for so long, Midorima had forgotten how to dominate the court on his own.

Though many parts of the new relationship were missed, the new one was shaping into something new altogether. The routine of pulling the cart was permanently reversed, but they didn't feel reversed anymore, the trips to the councillor with Midorima waiting outside until they were done before going for something to eat didn't feel strange or out of place in Midorima's routine either. Things were solidifying, the kicked up dust was settling, until something twisted this new found relationship out of place, and sent the dust flurrying into the air again.

It was a day like no other for Midorima, but the telephone rang, startling the silence with sharp blares. Answering it, Midorima heard silence over the line, before a muffled sob sounded, perking Midorima's senses, 'Takao?'

'Shin-chan…' A weak voice sounded, calling by Midorima's re-earned nickname.

'Where are you? Are you okay?' Midorima's answered, before wincing. His voice sounded sharper that he had intended to make it.

Takao answered, tight, contained, 'can I come in?'

Midorima didn't even bother to answer him before yanking the door open. Takao, who had presumably been resting his weight on the door, fell into Midorima's arms as bandaged fingers reached for him. Midorima let the other have a moment to recollect himself, stroking the other's back as soothingly as he could as he guided Takao to his room. Takao followed Midorima, pliant and limp in his arms, a shivering wreck.

Waiting until the other's sobs stopped, Midorima spoke, 'Are you going to be okay?'

'Yeah,' Takao intoned.

'Okay,' Midorima didn't have to question again. Takao would speak up if he needed help.

Takao echoed a sob, before looking up at Midorima, eyes streaked with red and wet, causing Midorima's heart to ache, 'they caught him.' A shudder, 'they caught him, and they asked for last words and he said…h-he said, the last one I fucked was such a pretty little thing.

'I wasn't even sad, I was just so angry. Doesn't he fucking understand what he's done?' Takao spat, eyes bitter, 'he fucked me up so bad. Why the hell did he have the power to fuck up my life? _Why?'_

'Takao,' Midorima whispered, and Takao launched himself at him.

For a second, Midorima thought that Takao wanted to attack him, but when a soft pair of trembling lips made contact with his, he realized that it was something totally different. Pushing the other away as gently as he possibly could, Midorima said as strictly and firmly as his shaken demeanour would allow, 'you don't want to do that kind of thing when you're breaking down.

Takao visibly deflated, before extracting himself from Midorima, 'yeah, you're right.'

And that's it for a while, but there's an underlying change in their relationship. So when, a few weeks later, Takao said that he'd made up his mind once and for all, planting a seemingly casual kiss on Midorima lips before smiling, Midorima doesn't feel the least bit surprised at all. Taking Takao's trembling hand that he had tried to hide from Midorima's gaze, the latter planted a soft kiss on the other's hand and said that they'd take it slow.

The relieved smile that Takao gave him was all the reward that he needed.

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